


Red Flowers in Autumn

by BanhTM



Series: Mizuhiki Cy/Cy [3]
Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon DS Cute, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Forget-Me-Not Valley, Harvest Moon AU, badass farmer, local city boy holds a chicken for the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26363659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanhTM/pseuds/BanhTM
Summary: A conversation that happens after Cynthia raises Cyrus's heart level above a blue heart.
Series: Mizuhiki Cy/Cy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148375
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Red Flowers in Autumn

Fiery leaves scrape across verdant fields of golden grass. Vivid red magic flowers shudder in the crisp autumn breeze.

Near the bridge connecting the main area to ClayRock Farm, she glimpses him: the only person wearing all-black in an all-crimson setting.

Cyrus has his hands clasped behind his back. He turns as she approaches, his lips tugging ever so gently to the side.

"Cynthia," he says with a nod.

Cynthia laughs. "You remembered my name."

"Of course. You apparently have no perception of personal space. I've never seen someone who would go out of their way to talk to me."

"It's because you have no favorite gift preferences. I asked around, but no one knows what you love."

Cyrus's eyes flicker to her face, gaze lingering on her smile for a second too long before turning away. "My grandfather speaks highly of you."

"Really?" She _did_ pester the old man with gifts after all. It took a while to upgrade her fishing rod to the point where it could catch big fishes. Hours in those godforsaken mines… "That's great. When I first arrived to Forget-Me-Not Valley, you were a real pain in the ass."

Cyrus frowns. "Was I _that_ bad?"

"Yup. Whenever I tried to talk to you, you just glared at me. Then you told me to step aside so you could pass. Why were you always in such a hurry to get away?"

"I wasn't…" He purses his lips. Covers his mouth with his sleeve. "Mm, perhaps _that's_ what Flint meant by my being needlessly rude…

"Do you know what's strange, Cynthia? Ever since I met you, the townsfolk have said that I've changed. They say I've opened up much more… and that my name finally matches me."

Cynthia beams. "When we first met in Spring, I thought Winter had arrived. And now it's like Summer is lingering into Autumn."

Cyrus gives that ambiguous smile again. He gestures to his fishing pole, prompting Cynthia to reach for her mithril-reinforced pole.

Pollen gleams in the rippling stream. A far-off waterfall pounds in the distance. Cynthia helps Cyrus reel in a rather heavy fish that turns out to be an oversized Magikarp. He releases it back into the lake.

* * *

Cynthia shoves her hands into her overall's pockets. It's quite chilly in the garden path. With flaring trees bordering on both sides, she feels like she's walking along the very ambiance of Autumn.

"Would you care to borrow my sweater?" says Cyrus.

"No thanks." His grandfather _did_ say that Cyrus gets cold easily. One of the many interesting factoids she learns in exchange for raising the old man's friendship level.

Cyrus blocks the road. "I insist. I bathed last night, I assure you."

Cynthia accepts his gift. The woolen sweater flops over her head, but after he makes a few adjustments, it fits just right. Very snug. And warm. Oooh is it warm. She hugs herself, giggling into the wool.

It smells like pine and worn books… with a faint metallic tang.

Cyrus drapes his scarf over her shoulders. "You work so hard on that farm of yours," he mutters. "When I saw you collapsed outside the Inn that night, I… Tch. Do you visit Dr. Rowan for monthly checkups?"

"Sometimes he does house calls," she replies, conveniently forgetting to mention that last time she was flat out drunk. "Heh, and you carried me to his clinic, didn't you? Rowan said you were about to smash his windows."

Cyrus scowls. "I don't see how this is a comical matter. Something could've happened to you if I hadn't been passing by. There are wild dogs come nightfall. You could've contracted a cold."

Cynthia shrugs. Cyrus's frown deepens. She tiptoes to flick him behind the ear, much to his chagrin.

"Do you have anything besides plaid shirts and overalls?" he huffs.

She taps a thoughtful finger to her lips. "That's the only thing they sell via phone shopping. There's no tailor in Forget-Me-Not-Valley."

"That, there isn't." Cyrus adverts his gaze. "However, there is a tailor in Mineral Town… If you're free, I would not mind accompanying you there." He's tugging on his sleeves as he draws out his words. "O-Or you can go with anyone else. I've noticed that Lucian, the librarian here, has taken special attention to you."

Cynthia smirks. "I try to make friends with everyone." Attention privileges. Gifts on White Day. Her own reverse ha—"Is there a problem with that, Cyrus?" she purrs as innocently as possible.

"No!" he blurts. "W-Why would it be a problem?" His ears are tinged with pink like the red magic flowers at his feet. "He openly praises you at every opportunity. Flint talks about you a lot too… So does Volkner, who usually cares less about human company.

"I-I digress. I really appreciate you giving me your time of day."

Cynthia gently headbutts his shoulder. "Aw, Cyrus. You know I think of you as a very special friend, riiiight?"

Cyrus stares at her. For the briefest of seconds, a shadow passes through his eyes. But then his expression softens, and he nods.

"Is that so," he mutters, gaze downcast. "Then I thank you. I've never had a… female friend before."

* * *

Cyrus walks Cynthia back to her farm. He keeps staring at everything, so she decides to show him around.

"Eggplants?" he says, pointing to those bulbous purple vegetables.

"Yup."

"You plant yams as well… Are you getting enough fiber in your diet?"

"Sure."

Cyrus tentatively strokes the weathered surface of a dark brown carrot. "I thought all carrots were orange… What an eye-opener."

Cynthia joins him in the fields after she finishes stuffing her mined jewelry into the shipping bin. He's on his knees while inspecting a flowering spinach plant.

"Cyrus," she says. "Where are you from again?"

"The city."

"Why did you leave? There's nothing in Forget-Me-Not Valley."

"The air is cleaner here," he says briskly. "Grandfather is getting old."

An awkward silence follows his blunt declaration. Cynthia tries something else. "Have you ever held a chicken before?"

In the poultry barn, Cynthia tosses a chicken into Cyrus's grasp. He seems a bit taken back by her crude handling, but she assures him that chickens like it when they're thrown. "It's so soft," Cyrus murmurs. The chicken cocks its head. He lays on his stomach, watching it mindlessly roam around with a tender crinkle in his eyes.

"Do you want to see cows?"

"You have cows?"

In the barn, Cyrus watches intently as Cynthia milks a spaced-out brown cow. "You don't have to squat like that," she huffs. But he's too engrossed in examining a cow's udder in microscopic detail to respond. She nudges him. "Cyrus, you want milk?"

The milk is still warm. "I've never had unpasteurized milk before," he mumbles dreamily. He drinks in small sips, sighing contently. "Interesting… and quite curious."

"Huh?"

Cyrus belches. "Pardon me. Raw milk has a very complex flavor profile. Do you make dairy products on site, Cynthia?"

She shows him to her cheese and yogurt maker. Of course, she gives him samples. He makes sure to lick his fingers clean after each bite.

* * *

When the sun begins to set, Cyrus rolls down his sleeves and gives a polite nod.

"It was a pleasure to spend time with you today, Cynthia," he says warmly. "I…" He coughs into his sleeves. "Pardon me. I wish you luck on your farm. Try to sleep early if you can."

"You sound a little hoarse there," she notes.

Cyrus shakes his head a bit too forcefully. "It's the milk. Farewell."

Cynthia gives it one minute before she rushes outside. Cyrus has not yet left the gate when he succumbed to a coughing fit. His chest is heaving from having expelled more oxygen than he's taking in.

"Don't… hah… touch me!"

She grabs his quavering shoulders. "We need to get you to Rowan, now!"

"Mind your own business!"

Cynthia ends up swinging her much taller friend over her shoulder and making a beeline to the valley's only physician.

* * *

Cyrus, being a fickle one, adamantly insists that Cynthia wait outside while he gets checked up by the doctor.

"It's not like you have anything to show underneath all those layers," Cynthia hisses as she storms off.

Finally, after who-knows-how-long, the examination is done. Cyrus shuffles off the bed, a hand clutched tightly over his left breast, veins climbing up his chalky skin.

"You have to be careful with your condition," Rowan is saying. His tone is stern, as if delivering a grim diagnosis. "I know the air here is better for your lungs, but that doesn't mean you've fully recovered."

Cyrus clicks his teeth but says nothing.

The doctor absently cleans his stethoscope. "You can't keep skipping out on your weekly checkups, hoping _it_ will magically go away. How much does your grandfather know?"

"As much as he needs to know."

Rowan frowns. "Don't go yet. That new farmer in town… You've been spending a lot of time with her recently. Does she know?"

Cyrus's hand hovers above the doorknob. "No," he mutters. "She and I both have our own separate matters to attend to."

* * *

Cynthia perks up when a wintry breeze grazes her cheek. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Cyrus replies faintly, pulling up his scarf so it covers his mouth. "My apologies for inconveniencing you. I can walk you home."

Cynthia stands. "How about _I_ walk _you_ home. I'm used to wandering around by myself at night." He opens his mouth. She grabs his arm and drags him down the leaf-laden path.

"So what happened?" she says after a silence.

"Water went into the wrong tube," he grunts.

"You… were drinking water out of my horse's water bin?"

"I was curious."

Cynthia scoffs. "Cyrus, you really are weird. I can't believe you used to be a cold hardass."

The gas lamps illuminate the red magic flowers along the gravel path. They stop outside the gates of a cozy log cabin.

Cyrus nods. "Thank you for accompanying me, Cynthia. Before you go, I have a favor to ask of you: Please don't tell my grandfather I was at the clinic. It's quite embarrassing having to explain myself."

Cynthia smirks. "Sure. See you tomorrow?"

Cyrus's eyes crinkle. "Stay safe."

She waves until he finally waves back. After the door closes, she leaves for home.

**Author's Note:**

> Listening to Harvest Moon DS Autumn theme while writing this.


End file.
